


for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

by gottabewhattomarrowneeds



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, basically they all appear but it’s really jet oriented, he survives but he doesn’t want to, it’s kinda like Na Na Na?, jet’s Doing His Best but he’s been given a shitty deal of cards, sorta? It’s a suicide mission u know, the Girl gets captured but the others get killed except for jet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottabewhattomarrowneeds/pseuds/gottabewhattomarrowneeds
Summary: When a huge tragedy strikes, leaving Jet Star the only survivor and his entire crew missing, Jet Star does his damnedest to find his family and save them from BLi’s clutches. He ran away from BLi while his friends were in need, and he refuses to make that same mistake.Unfortunately, he might be too late.





	for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

**Author's Note:**

> titles from ghost of you (mcr).
> 
> duh.

He was running. His legs pumped against the sandy ground, the sun scorched his back, burning his already singed skin. The smell of burnt hair lingered, and he was distantly worried his hair had re-caught on fire. 

His arm was searing in pain, and he could feel the burns on his skin scream as his clothes rubbed against them. He refused to acknowledge the pain, because if he did, he’d stop running, and he couldn’t afford to do that.

It had been such a lovely day too.

They had raided a warehouse just hours before, snagging some food and clothes and dusting some mindless Dracs. They found a few valuables, like guns and spare parts that they’d be able to sell to Tommy Chow Mein later that week.

It was great. There was no injury, they were able to nab a shit ton of stuff, and it was all in all a success.

So they went home and relaxed. After they unpacked all their things and Fun Ghoul did his turn on taking stock, they settled back into their usual routine, taking the rest of the day off to laze.

Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid engaged in a game of poker, which Ghoul was very clearly loosing. The Girl was perched in a booth near them, scribbling away at some scraps of paper. She was settled in Party Poison’s lap, who was chatting idly about the time they and Show Pomy went to Zone Six and found a treasure trove of candy. 

Jet Star was fiddling with some of the spare parts they collected. He wasn’t entirely sure as to what he was making, but he figured he had nothing else to do. 

And then, it all went to shit.

The front door slammed open, and a grenade rolled into the room. There was a split second of frantic scrambling, but it wasn’t enough time to get cover. There was a loud roar, a burst of red and orange, and Jet Star lost consciousness as he was throw back from the force of the explosion.

He woke up god knows how much later and found everything they worked for decimated.

He was under a pile of rubble, and his arm was twisted at an angle he knew wasn’t natural. As he shifted, pain spiked through his core, and he knew he had burns all over his body. He could smell the faint scent of burning hair amongst the odor of burning flesh, and his stomach twisted in knots.

It took some time, but he struggled through it, pulling himself out of the wreckage. He sat on the ground, panting, his vision blurry with pain and sweat and a likely concussion.

His arm was hot, searing like metal left out in the sun for too long. He took a few breaths before soaking in the sight before him.

He wished he hadn’t looked.

Dracs were wandering around the wreckage of the diner, poking through the rubble, searching for their bodies, most likely. The diner was surrounded by white vans with the BLi logo, and at the very center of it all stood Korse. He was too far to truly see it, but he could feel the man’s manic grin as his gaze raked about the smoking ruins of his home.

Fuck.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to not alert the mass of Dracs to his presence. How the hell did they find them? How the hell did they sneak up on them? Engines could be heard from miles away put in the stillness of the desert. How did they-

He tripped backwards, stepping on something soft. He collapsed to the ground, his reflexes too slow to catch himself. Sand caked his face and he let out a soft moan as his arm hit the ground.

He quickly righted himself, and scooted away from where he had tripped. He glanced around, making sure he hadn’t been noticed, before looking back at what had tripped him.

His gag reflex activated and it took every inch of will power not to upheave everything he’s ever ate before that moment.

Kobra Kid.

He tripped over Kobra Kid.

The poor bastard was buried under the rubble, and his skin had been scorched deeply by the grenade, peeling off huge chucks. His entire body was covered in blood, and the stench of burnt flesh wafted in the slight breeze.

His neck was jutting out at an unnatural angle, his skin charred black, his body laced with ashes.

At that point, Jet Star was no longer thinking.

Adrenaline fueled the motors in his legs, bursting them to life, and before he could realise what he was doing, the wreckage that was his home had become a speck in the distance.

He sprinted as fast as he could, begging his legs to move even quicker, speeding through the desert at full speed. Panic and fear was settling into his bones like the desert grime on his skin.

His mind cane to a grinding halt, focusing solely on the charred corpse. Kobra Kid. Kobra’s dead.

But are the others dead too?

He wanted to stop. He wanted to go back and search for them. For Fun Ghoul, for Party Poison, for the Girl- he had to know if they survived like he had. He couldn’t just abandon them to BLi’s clutches. He couldn’t just run away.

Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid has been right next to the grenade when it went off. They might not have made it. But if Jet Star lived, who’s to say the others didn’t?

His legs refused to cooperate. They just kept running in the direction of god knows where. He wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh- he wanted to do anything to stop the terrifying silence surrounding him as he ran away from his friends, and he abandoned them to their fate.

What was he doing? What was he doing? They might not be dead!   
Did he really just leave them to BLi? He just left them! He left them!

He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t even look back. He just kept moving foreword, his legs refusing to do anything but run, run, run.

-

Eventually, he passed out after hours of running, running, running. He wasn’t entirely certain as to where he was running to but apparently his unconscious had lead him near Dr. Death Defying’s radio shack.

“Oh my god,” Cherri Cola yelped, shaking Jet Star awake. “What the hell happened to you?”

Show Pony was standing right next to him, looking around. “I don’t see the van anywhere? Did he just fucking run here?”

“Jesus Christ,” Cherri muttered, putting an arm under Jet Star’s head as he checked for a pulse on his wrist, preparing to carry him. “He’s still alive, and I can hear him breathing.”

Jet Star lurched out of his grasp at the words, trying to scramble away from them. His mind was on autopilot, and his instinct was to run.

“Woah, woah!” Show Pony grabbed him a bit too roughly, trying to stop him from running off. “Hey, hey! It’s us! It’s Show Pony! You’re favourite friend!”

He groaned from the pain his arm, Show Pony grabbing just where he was sure the source of pain was. Cherri Cola hesitantly approached, glancing over his body, looking for serious injuries. 

“What’s your name?” He voice was calm, and Jet latched on to it. 

“J-Jet Star.” His voice was hoarse.

“What’s my name?”

“Cherri Cola.”

He came closer, and his hands threaded his hair. Ashes drifted from his threads like dandruff, and singed pieces of hair tumbled off. “I think you might have a concussion. Thank god you even woke up.”

“Hey, what happened?” Show Pony asked him, releasing their grip on his arm. They were still holding him upright, however, and Jet was thankful for the support. “Where’s your crew? What are you doing here?”

Flames licked his vision and he could feel the tears swell up. “BLi- the diner-“

He coughed roughly, cutting himself off. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he was rather surprised that he didn’t end up spitting out any blood. He wiped his mouth, trying to get a hold of himself.

“BLi found us. I don’t know how, but they found the diner. They blew it up with us in it. We didn’t- no time- I-“

He wheezed. He had ran out of liquid, and so he could no longer cry. Instead, he made sharp choking noises and gasps, shaking as he broke off yet again.

“The others?” Cherri gently prodded, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“I don’t know.” No, not entirely true. “I think Kobra’s dead. I tripped on his body, and he looked pretty fucking crisp.”

Show Pony looked uneasy at that statement. “Jesus.”

“But I don’t know about the others. I ran before I could check. Dracs surrounded the entire area, tryin’ to sift through the diner. I saw Korse and Kobra Kid and I just- I just ran.”

Cherri rubbed his hand on his back, and Jet winced. He hit a nasty burn on his shoulder blade, and Cherri instantly stopped. “I see. We’ll get you fixed up, and you can talk to the doc.”

Show Pony’s eyes hardened as they began to drag Jet Star toward the radio shack that looked in the near distance. Jet gasped and moaned from both pain and terror as he moved, crying tearless sobs.

“I didn’t go back for them,” he moaned. “I didn’t go back. I ran and ran and ran and ran.... I just left them. What if they’re not dead? Korse has them. Korse has them and I left them.”

“Jet, don’t play the blame game,” Cherri warned, propping Jet against him to help Show Pony. “You did what you had to-“

“I abandoned them,” he wailed, his head flopping. His vision was blurring, and black dots danced along the road. He was going to pass out again.

“Aye, Jet, stay awake.” Show Pony nudged his side. “I know you’re in a shit ton of pain, but you gotta stay awake.”

Jet felt as if he was underwater, his vision swimming and the voices around him becoming muffled. He swayed in their grasp, no even bothering to fight unconsciousness. At this point, he’d be lucky if he died in his sleep.

-

He woke up again to the sound of voices, but he couldn’t process them. He tried to sit up, glancing around and trying to ignore the dull ache his body produced when he moved.

“Jet Star!” A voice chirped. He glanced to his left to see Newsagogo hovering over him, her face etched in fear yet excitement. “Oh thank god!”

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Dr. D’s rough voice caught his attention. He was seated to his right, and Cherri was standing across from him. He was lying on their couch, the overstuffed bastard Show Pony insisted on keeping because of it’s velvet like look. 

“Yeah,” he croaked, his voice cracking with just that one syllable. 

“Do you know where you are?”

“Dr. D’s radio shack,” he answered, leaning back against the armrest. Cherri nodded. 

“We told them what happened. You were hurt pretty fuckin bad. A broken arm, a mild concussion, severe burns all over your body, intense dehydration and blood loss, and a few other, more minor infractions.” Cherri rubbed his eyes. “We were able to stabilize you after you passed out. You’ve been out for about a day and a half.”

A whole day. A whole day he’s left his crew alone, to fend for themselves against the clutches of BLi. He pushed himself off the bed, getting to his feet before anyone could react. He wobbled a bit, and everything ached, but that wasn’t enough to stop him.

“We have to go,” he pleaded. “We’ve got to go to the diner. We’ve gotta go.”

“Jet.” Newsagogo set her hand on his shoulder, steadying him and offering comfort. “We already went back.”

He froze in place. “Are they-“

“They’re missing,” the doc confirmed. “Cherri, Pony, and Newsagogo went back to the site not long after you were stabilized. They scavenged the diner, but they couldn’t find our friends. Even their bodies were missing.”

Every inch of Jet Star felt cold now, like he had been locked in a freezer or drenched in icy water. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He kicked the couch, trying his damnedest not to loose his absolute shit. He had to keep it together, he had to, but god fucking damnit, his friends were missing, and likely dead at this point, and he had no idea what the hell he should do.

“Calm down,” Cherri ordered, and Jet jutted his chin up, staring him dead in the eye.

“Calm down! Calm down! You want me to calm down! My entire family is missing, probably fucking dead, and if they’re not already, BLi will make sure they are! I left them! I abandoned them! I left them to BLi and this is where we are because of it!” He collapsed onto the couch, pushing his head in between his hands, trying to hold back sobs. “I fucked up! BLi’s got my friends! Korse fucking won!”

“Hell no, he didn’t.” Doctor Death Defying looked furious. “Jet Star, you cant just give up.”

“Why the hell not! They’re all dead! They’re all fucking dead because I abandoned them! We won’t find them!” He hit his head against the back of the couch, groaning.

“Jet Star, you were born and raised out here in this desert. The phrase killjoys never die should have been seared into your brain by now.”

“But they do!” He was screaming. He lost it, and he didn’t care anymore. Within the group, he was supposed to be the level headed on. He was supposed to calm the others down, whenever Ghoul would pick fights, whenever the Girl got angry about being treated like a child, whenever something set Kobra off into his sulking, whenever Party woke up screaming at night. He was supposed to keep his cool, but now he won’t be able to do any of those things. What the hell was the point anymore?

“We don’t know that they’re even dead! Kobra Kid might be, but what about the others? Fun Ghoul? Party? The Girl? Are you just going to leave them behind because of one loss? Are you just going to give up because you gave up on them?”

“Shit! I already left them behind! I ran away! I woke up and I ran away! I didn’t even check on them! I didn’t even look back! I just fuckin fled!”

“What else were you supposed to do? You couldn’t exactly stick around! BLi was surveying the entire area! You couldn’t dig through the rubble without alerting them.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

He pulled at his hair. “I don’t fucking know!”

He curled into himself, panting as he ran his hands all through his hair. Electricity seemed to be running through his body, every inch of him seemed to be bursting with an energy he didn’t understand.

“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Cherri began, gently. “You ran, and it’s a good thing you did. Korse and those Dracs could have caught you if you stuck around for too long, and then we might’ve never known what happened to you guys.”

“And now, you survived.” Newsagogo stared into his eyes. “You survived, and you have the chance to fuck up BLi as badly as they did to you. You can hurt them back.”

“Who knows,” Dr. D continued. “You just might find them back in one piece, too.”

He remained silent. He survived, but by the Witch he wished he hadn’t. The whole point of being with a crew was so you could all be together, to stave off the madness that came with isolation. When you formed a crew, your job was to stick together until you died. You were supposed to die together, either in a raid gone wrong or of starvation or from ravaging coyotes- it didn’t matter. You lived together, and you died together.

And Jet Star managed to fuck that up.

However, they were right. Since he lived, he can fight back. He can get his revenge on BLi, he has the chance to destroy them for what they’ve done. He could find his friends, too- if they hadn’t really died like he thought.

He could do something.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Of course. Fuck, I won’t abandon them again. I’ll search through Hell and high water to see them again. I’ll find them and I’ll make BLi pay for ever taking them away.”

“That’s the spirit!” Newsagogo cheered, gently hitting his shoulder.

Jet Star was going to find them. He was going to kill Korse and those Dracs and he was going to find them, even if it killed him.

-

Weeks passed. Jet Star recovered slowly, and his rage only festered over the course of time. He tried to keep it to himself, but his snappish irritability was becoming increasingly noticeable to everybody at the radio shack. 

His arm was beginning to work like it used to, and he could shoot with it nearly just as well as he had before hand. He’s already learned to use both hands- out here in the desert, ambidextrousness was essential to wanting to survive- but it was so much easier to be able to use his dominant hand once again.

But now that it’s working, he’s become restless. He’s in good health, and so he needs to start searching for them as soon as possible.

Dr. D’s gathering inside intelligence from spies within BLi, but it takes a large chuck of time to transmit data to them and back. It could be months before they learn anything, and Jet Star wouldn’t wait that long if he has a choice. And he does.

Doctor Death Defying sat in front of him, his eyes full of tired creases. “It’s been two months.”

“Yeah.”

“The zones are getting restless. Gangs are starting to fight over settled territories, and it’s getting pretty nasty. Many are dead. The killjoys are beginning to divide, and we need to be united. They need a leader, now more than ever.”

Jet Star knew exactly where this was going. “Doc, I-“

“I know.” He set a hand on his thigh. “But they need you, Jet. You’re the last remaining killjoy from the Fab Four. You’re group was seen as the poster boys for terrorizing BLi. You’re popularity unified the zones. You have a responsibility, and I’m afraid you can’t mope about in this shack anymore. The zones need you.”

He was right. Jet Star survived. He had to make sure the memories of the others did too. Party Poison would fucking kill him if they found out all their hard work of settling Zone disputes went to shit because he didn’t do anything about it.

“Of course.” He let out a deep sigh. “I understand.”

“Good. I’m not saying you have to replace them, but you do have to step up to their title.” Doctor D looked sad. 

“What do I have to do?”

“We’ll get you to do more broadcasting. The people need to hear directly from you. They need to hear from you what happened, and what to do now. They need a leader Jet. And that has to be you. You’re the leader now.”

Jet couldn’t suppress the sniffles. He didn’t want to. Dr. D didn’t want him to replace Party Poison, but by god did it feel like he was. He was stepping up to a position he didn’t want nor did he earned.

As much flack as they gave Party for being the self proclaimed leader, and milking that title for all its worth, they really were. They were crass and could come off as a bit head strong, but they were the glue to the zones. They were a peacemaker, they knew how to settle disputes before they even happened. They knew how to woo a crowd, how to get people’s attention, how to keep it. They knew how to boost moral, how to garner respect.

They weren’t just feared for their ability to fight, or respected for their ability to fuck up BLi’s plans. They were admired for their ability to unify.

Jet Star wasn’t sure he could live up to those expectations. Even so, he whispered a weak, “Okay.”

“Thank you. We can broadcast tomorrow.”

-

More time passed. Zone wars died down, though there was still the occasional spat. Not all were happy with Jet Star, and not all were happy with Dr. D and his crew. There was an overwhelming amount of anger, and nobody seemed to be immune to the irritability and tension the event set off. 

Jet Star was almost surprised at the reaction. He knew that the Fab Four had become rather famous, but it shocked him to see how much they’ve impacted people. If he had bit the bullet along with the rest, he wasn’t sure what would have happened. The zone smight have gone absolutely lawless, and all the hard work they’ve done to create a semi society would have been tossed to the wind. 

They might have rioted so badly they’d have gone after BLi.

It flattered and stressed Jet to no end. He was no hero, no spokesperson, no leader. He couldn’t help everybody, no matter how hard he tried.

He was back out to patrolling the zones, often accompanied by Show Pony, and it grinded his gears to see how the event set off such a strong chain reaction within the zones.

Although the work helped take his mind off the event, and the guilt that ebbed away at him, it only served to fuel his revenge further. He had to find the others, to fix the mess that’s been made.

Now he didn’t feel entirely selfish in his persuit.

-

“The Girl’s been confirmed to be in Battery City,” Doctor Death Defying stated, rolling into his new room with such casualness he had assumed he was stopping by only to offer a greeting.

Jet Star jumped from his bed. “What?”

“She’s alive, Jet.” He sighed. “She’s in the main BLi headquarters, undergoing rehabilitation. They haven’t succeeded in anything with her yet. But she’s there.”

Jet’s eyes widened, and for the first time, he fells his heart swell with hope. “We can save her.”

“Our agent doesn’t know anything about the others,” Dr. D continued. “Still, it’s not a bad bet to say that they’re there too. After all, they are major criminals, and that’s the center they take all big name killjoys to.”

There was a reason for that. That was the facility that experimented on new medication and weapons. They would test out whatever monstrosity they’ve created on their captured, and if it worked, they’d pass it on to the other facilities.

His hand twitched for his gun. “When can we go?”

“We’re gathering supplies as we speak. Cherri Cola and Show Pony are going in with you. Newsagogo will be your escape ride. We’re sending out a transmission, calling for all the help we can get. We’re not sure how they’ll react, however.”

Of course. The tension within the Zones was hitting its highest points. Despite his best efforts, scuffles continued to play out. It was impossible to tell whether they’d help him, especially given the general public view on him wasn’t entirely flattering.

He’s been a coward behind his back and to his face, and many other names. He abandoned his friends, his crew, his family- it stung, but they were right. He wished to no end that he had just died with them.

Still. It was worth a shot.

-

More time passed. Nobody answered the call, except for DJ Hot Chimp. She arrived not even two hours after the broadcast Dr. D and him had sent, and refused to do anything but lend them a hand. It was nice.

But now it was time.

The plan was a practical suicide mission, all things considered. It would be impossible to sneak inside BLi, especially with all the guards and security measures. There’s a good reason why nobody’s ever succeeded in a mission like this before.

So they were going to drive head on. 

They’d infiltrate BLi using pure brawn, muscling their way into the building and save the Girl from their. Dr. D’s inside agent was able to offer up the buildings plans, and they learned exactly where the Girl was schedualed to be the day they were iciltrating.

The Girl was the priority. Dr. D had drilled that into all their heads when they had first been given charge of her. He didn’t quite understand why, but she was something special, supposed to be a savior of sorts. Besides, Dr. D’s words is law, and Jet Star never breaks a promise if he can help it.

So they’d go after the Girl. They’d rescue her, and try not to die in the process.

-

The day came.

They sat in the van, silenced. The only sound was the roar of the motor of the van, and Cherri Cola systematically tapping against the wheel of the car. Even Show Pony was quiet, staring out the window, bouncing their leg as they rode.

The road was eerily calm, deserted, not a soul in sight. It made everyone on edge, nervous and anxious about a sudden ambush. Driving head on into Battery City shouldn’t be easy. After all, escaping was the hardest thing a citizen could do.

Yet, it was the easiest thing they had ever done.

Cherri Cola drove head on into the connecting tunnel, slamming through the small security booth that sat at the entrance. Jet Star whipped out his gun and shot the guard on duty before the alarm could be sounded. The element of surprise wasn’t entirely necessary, but by god, they’ll take every instance of help they can get.

The tunnel was long and white and Jet Star could feel his nerves feat the longer they drive through. Lights gleamed off Cherri’s glasses, making his eyes impossible to read. It raised the tension Jet was feeling.

They exited, the van sharply turning, wheels squealing as they raced toward the center of town. This was a huge reason as to why sneaking into the place would be virtually impossible- the headquarters was placed dead center in Battery City, the small neighborhoods arround acting as a barrier to the display of power.

White vans began crashing toward them from other roads, diverging behind them. Jet Star leaned out the window as DJ Hot Chimp and Show Pony opened the back doors. Laser blasts filled the air, the crackling electricity the only distraction for the stillness of the city. It was after curfew- all citizens were inside for the evening.

He heard a tire blow out and watched as the leading white van swerved off course, slamming into one van on their left and another ramming into the back of the two crashed vans. Show Pony let out a war whoop, and despite himself, Jet Star laughed. The tension he felt was slowly starting to leave.

He was going to save the Girl. He was going to find his friends.

It was finally happening. 

The van jerked to a stop. Cherri Cola slammed on the brakes just as they smashed into the doors of the office section of BLi’s major headquarters. They jumped out, and immediately began blasting, pulling the triggers of their guns as fast as they could, ducking for cover.

Swarms of Dracs appeared behind them, and they quickly became separated as a mass of white bodies surrounded them. It was dangerous to be alone in the middle of such an intense firefight, but safety had been thrown out the window long ago.

Jet Star sent rapid shots, firing as quick as his fingers could handle. The anger that had been festering under his skin ever since his home had been destroyed began to surface, and he didn’t bother keeping it in check.

Jet Star wasn’t a pacifist, as in the desert, it was impossible to not engage in physical altercations, but he wasn’t a sadist. Yet with every Drac he shot, he could feel his heart pump a little faster, his lips curve into something closer and closer towards a grin. 

It was slow going, but he was managing to clear a route towards the holding cell The Girl was located at. Dracs swarmed on all sides, and it was difficult to keep up with so many of them around. He’s lost track of the others, and prayed that they would be able to catch up to him.

He blew past his way up the stars, not trusting the elevator. It would be easy to cut a cable and leave him trapped inside, or worse, tumbling to his untimely death. While it was sparse fighting space in the stair case, he still had some control over the fight.

He emerged a few stories higher, firing his gun at anything that moved. 

Although he was here for the Girl, his sight was set one someone else. He was disappointed to have not found Korse yet, but he knew the man preferred to lurk in the shadows until he believed he could lay the last blow.

He raced to the end of the hallway, and as he shot at a few Dracs in his tail, he pulled the pin to a small detonator as he stuck it on the door handle. He jumped back, watching as the explosion rippled, blowing open the door.

The Girl sat on the bed across from him, her eyes wide. Her hair wasn’t loose and free flowing like it used to be, but instead cropped and pulled into a tight braid. She was dressed in white, and looked bored out of her skull.

“Jet Star?” She asked, completely disbelieving. He grinned at her, and held out his hand.

“You bet.”

A manic gleam returned to her eyes, and she grabbed his hand, nearly crushing it in her excitement. “I knew it! I knew it!”

He pulled her out of the room, only to find himself surrounded by a squadron of Dracs. They must have appeared while they were chatting.

There was a Scarecrow at the front, wearing a white mask. It wasn’t Korse- they had a full head of hair, and Korse never did abide by the dress code much.

Jet Star took a deep breath, and began to fire. Dracs followed suit, and the sounds of laser fire echoed throughout the hall, lights dancing in his vision as he shot and ducked and shot again. The Girl followed his every move, ducking and dodging and kicking and punching any BLi who got too close to them.

They were pushed back to back, and Jet Star finally asked the question that’s been on the top of his tongue. “Do you know what happened to the rest of us?”

She opened her mouth, ready to answer, when another voice cut her off. “The infamous Jet Star finally returns from the dead.”

The voice boomed around them, and Jet Star repressed the shiver that ran down his spine. He refused to show his fear. He refused to give the man even an inch.

Korse stood in front of him, a grin plastered on his face. He was leaning against the wall, twirling his blaster in his hand, looking almost comically casual. If Jet Star hadn’t seen this man when his entire world collapsed before him, hadn’t watch him lead the team that destroyed his home and then ransacked it, he might have laughed.

Instead, he bit out, “Fuck you!”

“It has been a while,” Korse continued. “I know you survived the original blast, considering your constant appearance on the airwaves. I suppose someone had to replace Party as the leader, hm?”

His blood boiled. He fired at Korse, squeezing the trigger as hard as he could. “Shut the hell up and fight.”

“Merely an observation, considering all that occurred. Aren’t you the slightest bit curious as to how we did it? How we destroyed everything you hold dear?”

He clenched his teeth. The question of how has been plaguing him the entire time. “No.”

“I’ll tell it anyway.” Jet Star ducked as a Dracs swung at him, and he kneed the soldier in the crotch before shooting his stomach. “You remember the raid you carried out that day, right? Well, while you all were fighting, I had one of the other Scarecrows on duty place a tracker on the underbelly of your vehicle. Really, I’m surprised we hadn’t done this sooner.”

Fuck. They were supposed to check for wire taps and trackers once they were out of range of the enemy, but they had been on a high of all the things they had gathered that they became sloppy.

“You lead me right to your home base. After we figured out your location, we launched an attack. We drive to your home, parked our vans a little bit away so you wouldn’t hear us coming. We kicked open your door, and I threw the grenade right inside.”

Jet Star’s blood boiled. He shot at Korse again and again and again, trying as hard he could to just hit the man. Each shot missed as Korse dodged with practiced ease, watching him with prideful eyes.

“It was so easy. The grenade took you all out, and made for easy pickings. Of course, you had gotten away, but that was of no concern.” He smiled. “For one, you’re back here now, and for another, what exactly could you do, anyway? The coward who ran away?”

“Don’t talk about him that way!” The Girl screamed as she twisted the arm of a Drac, a snap resonating through the room. Korse merely grinned brighter.

“I’m just telling it how it was. After he woke up from the blast, he ran away. He didn’t bother sticking around to find his friends and check on them. Really, that’s just cold blooded. Maybe we should have tried to recruit you sooner.”

He screamed as he let out a string of shots, hitting as many Dracs as he could. Korse was right. He’d been a coward and a failure but by the Phoenix Witch he was going to fix his mistake.

The masked Scarecrow flanked his left, and he saw a blur of white before he was tackled to the ground. Jet Star struggled against him, kneeing the mans chin before scrambling back up. He clawed at his mask to pull himself out of the slackened grip, and felt the material slip off.

He stumbled to his feet, tossing the mask aside and aimed his gun at the mask less Scarecrow. They stood up, and flipped the hair out of their eyes, aiming their gun right back at him. Their eyes met, and Jet Star’s heart stopped as he soaked in the face before him.

His gun quivered in his hands, his eyes not believing in the sight before him. The ghost stared right back, their gun aimed for his heart, and his gun aimed at their’s. It was a showdown, a terrifying deja vu as to when they first met.

Party Poison.

They were a Scarecrow now. Their hair was bleached white, and cropped right against the skull. Jet Star nearly gagged at the sight, knowing their hair meant everything to them. It was the one thing they could truly control. 

They were dressed in funeral black, the mandatory suits for Scarecrows. A little BLi insignia was sewn on their chest, right where Jet was aiming, and rage coursed through his veins. Party had become exactly what they feared- a puppet.

“I see you’ve met our newest recruit.” Korse hovered in the corner of his eye, but he refused to look away from Party’s face. Their blank eyes were locked into his, and he could feel his entire body shaking as his breath caught. “Party Posion. It took so long for them to break, but once they realised you weren’t coming for them, well...”

‘You can’t trust a word he says’. Kobra Kid’s words rang through his ears as he tried to drown out the man, his vision tunneling. He had warned Jet and Ghoul just before their first major raid as a gang, when they hit a major BLi warehouse. That had been their first true run in with Korse, as he was scheduled to work there when they had hit it, and it was far from their last encounter.

The man was known for manipulating anyone who gets in his way. His way with words could crumble even the most confident and self assured killjoy, and it was of utmost importance to ignore everything he said.

Jet Star didn’t.

“They broke easily. All we had to do was tell him you weren’t coming, and they didn’t believe us at first. Really, they had so much faith in you. But then time went on, and you never showed up, and they eventually gave up. Can you blame them?” Korse gave a predatorial grin. “The only person to blame here is you.”

“That’s not what happened,” the Girl protested, snatching a gun off of a Dracs and pointing it at Korse’s face. “You fucking tortured them!”

Jet Star could barely hear the conversation anymore. He dodged blow after blow, mechanically shooting, moving on autopilot. The problem was that Korse was right. He left his friends behind, and sure he’s been searching, but not hard enough. Months had passed.

“The others,” he whispered. The Girl’s head whipped up, and her sad eyes already gave him the answer, but... “Kobra Kid. Fun Ghoul. What happened?”

“Dead.” Korse grinned. “They were killed when the grenade went off. You would have known that if you’d stuck around.”

That’s it.

Jet screamed and lunged for Korse. Party Posion shot at him as he tackled the man, and the two went slamming into the ground. He felt a buzzing against his stomach and pushed off Korse just before he could shoot him, punching his head before getting grabbed. He was yanked off Korse by a pair of Dracs, and he screamed and screamed as he fought against their hold. Korse sat up, blood running down his nose, a sick grin twisting his face that made Jet’s blood boil.

He twisted one of the Dracs arms and kicked the other in the crotch. He adjusted his grip on his gun and shot blindly at anything that moved. Red filled his vision, an intense anger overwhelming his senses as he fired shot after shot after shot.

The Girl tugged on his hand. “Jet! Jet! We gotta go!”

There were too many surrounding them, and they still had to get back downstairs and back to the van. Shit. Shit!

Jet Star sent a few more rounds at Korse’s head before grabbing the Girl’s wrist. He pulled her along as he shot his way through the crowd, trying to get back to the stairwell.

Party’s eyes lingered in his vision even as he fought his way out. They lived. They lived, and because of him, they became a mindless puppet, a doll dressed up in BLi’s uniform, their brain bleached.

A Drac tried to tackle him, and he shot at its head. The mask broke in half with a sickening sizzle, and Jet Star screamed as a flash of greasy jet black hair filled his vision.

Fun Ghoul collapsed to the ground on the stairs.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Korse began, leaning on the stairwell’s railing. “Kobra Kid was a bit too burned to be put through the reanimation process, but we were able to salvage Fun Ghoul’s body. They may have died, but they’re working for us now. And soon, you’ll be joining them. Again, and again, and again.”

No. 

No. No. No. No. No. NO.

Jet Star sprinted, pushing and shoving his way through the mass of white, pulling the Girl a bit too roughly. He was screaming, and he was probably scaring the Girl, and yet he couldn’t stop. He had to get out. He had to get away from all these fucking ghosts.

He lost.

He couldn’t save them. He lost them, he lost them, he lost them-

But he had the Girl.

The others were fucked. Kobra Kid was safe with the Witch, Fun Ghoul would be too once his body gets destroyed, and Jet Star will make sure Party Posion gets the rest they deserve.

He survived. The others didn’t.

The Girl will.

Rage filled every inch of his body, and he slaughtered every Drac that dared get in his way. They were back to the base floor, moving against the current of bodies that threatened to kill them where they stood. They were so close.

“Jet!” Show Pony screamed. Jet Star took a few blind shots behind him before glancing to his left. Show Pony was waving their arms, desperately trying to get his attention. “We gotta go! There’s a new wave coming from up North. They’ll be here soon!”

He pushed his way towards Show Pony, checking to see if the others were following suit. DJ Hot Chimp and Cherri Cola were making their way towards them, and they were beginning to all reconvene by Show Pony.

They were winning.

The plan was working. They got the Girl. They were so close to freedom.

They broke through the last barrier of men, pushing through the barricaded front doors just in time to see the news van skid to a stop. Newsagogo was frantically waving at them, and the roar of the engine hit his ears, nearly drowning the gunfire that followed them.

They sprinted toward the van, hoping to god that a stray blast wouldn’t hit them as they risked the low coverage. Electricity bounced off the vehicle, scorch marks simmering as smoke drifted away from each spot that was hit.

Jet Star shoved the Girl into the van. He was about to clamber into the back as well when he caught sight of a figure in the mirror. Party Poison stood, gun drawn, shooting down the van as they lead a squadron of Drcas their way.

He didn't have to think. He knew exactly what to do.

He slid the door shut, and heard Newsagogo curse in Japanese and English. "Jet! What are you doing?"

"Go on with out me!" He screamed. He slammed the door shut and spun around on his heels, drawing out his laser gun. A plan was beginning to form. He had to save his friend, and he knew the way to do it. "Save yourself, I'll hold them back!"

The van stalled for a moment, Newsagogo's eyes locked onto his. Cherri Cola and Show Pony leered at him, and he could feel the Girl's eyes on his back. He felt god awful for what he was about to do to her, that he was about to abandon her, her last remaining family member leaving her behind. It was about more than just him now, though. 

"Okay." He could barely hear it, through the electric zaps of gun fire, the roaring engine of the news van, and his ragged breathing. The motor screeched to life, and dust became kicked up in her wake as she gunned it out of there. He could hear Cherri Cola screaming as they left, probably wanting to go back. 

He aimed and fired as many shots as he could before moving for cover. He had to finish the job.

A plan formed, though it really was more of a guideline. Tactics and strategies and plans were really more of Kobra Kid’s thing. 

Jet Star jumped into the swarm, blasting as many as he could. Dracs were beginning to hop on motorcycles, preparing to chase after the Girl, and Jet Star was going to keep them at bay for as long as he could.

Lasers skimmed his shoulder and his hair, and he turned his attention to the foot soldiers in front of him just as he blew out a tire in the front of the motorcycle battalion. The Dracs crashed, skidding into a few others, and knocked them down like bowling pins.

A shot nearly hit his shoulder, but he was able to dodge it. It still made contact with skin, brushing against his arm, and he let out a slight groan of pain.

Party Poison’s eyes were locked onto him, and he watched as they pulled the trigger again. Jet Star ducked, sending a few shots their way as he moved closer and closer into the building.

“Party,” he whispered. 

“Just what do you hope to accomplish, Jet Star?” Korse boomed. He was in the sidelines, directing the flow of Dracs, and looking keenly interested in Jet’s plans. “The Girl isn’t safe from our reach.”

He ignored him and continued to make his way back inside. He pushed and pushed and pushed through the masses of white, trying his damnedest to dodge Party’s sniper like aim. The smell of burning flesh clogged his nose and he was reminded of that day, of Kobra Kid’s charred skin, licked by the flames of fires still burning after the disaster.

He was nearing the center of the headquarters. He was going to die. He had let his ride escape, and even if he wanted to go back out, push his way back outside again, he’d have no way to leave. He’d just get captured or shot.

The crowd around him had thinned slightly, and Dracs were tripping over the bodies he wasted as they tried to touch him. Party was on his heels, the sound of their gunfire only fuelling his desires to carry out his plan.

He suddenly stopped, startling a few Dracs and causing them to trip. He twirled around, aiming his gun at Party right as they whipped their’s at his head. 

“Party,” he repeated. “Party, you gotta break free. Party, you gotta listen to me. You can’t let them get to you.”

It was pointless. Once a person was bleached, it was impossible to save them. Party might as well have been a walking corpse, despite the pulse they carried.

Even if they did miraculously break away, it’s be for nothing. He couldn’t save them, not really. They would still be trapped in the middle of the firefight.

“Party,” he whispered, desperation dripping with just those two syllables.

“You’re a traitor, Star.” The words came out of their mouth, and it sounded exactly as he remembered and yet completely different.

His heart burned. Party had always called him Star, a nickname they refused to give up despite everyone else calling him Jet. But the way it came out of their mouth, like they were trying to spit out venom, hurt worse than their actual words.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I know. I left you guys behind.”

He fished around in his pocket, and pulled out a spare grenade. Demolition and the like had always been Fun Ghoul’s thing, but Jet Star was sure he wouldn’t mind. After all, Jet Star made sure to position himself near where Fun Ghoul had fallen from the blast to face. He’ll go out in a fiery death, just the way he always imagined.

He could see Korse’s eyes widen. “Stop him-“

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled the pin, and grinned as red and orange filled his vision.

-

“Jet Star!”

A flash of red disappeared just as he opened his eyes. The smell of smoke didn’t fill his nostrils, nor did the sensation of being burned alive, which rather surprised him. He found himself standing, surrounded by a field of white. The white stretched for an eternity, dotted with black, like he was staring at a reverse night, where space was white and the stars were black.

Feathers drifted into his field of vision, and he spun around on his heels. A being stood in front of him, and before he could speak, She put up a hand to silence him. 

“My name,” She began, “is the Phoenix Witch. Does that ring any bells, Jet Star?”

He froze in place, staring at the entity before him. He was overcome with memories of Party Poison telling stories of the times they’ve met Her, and how they bargained their way out of dying for real each time. He never believed them, considering each time it supposedly happened, they were dehydrated/malnourished. 

But as he stood there in Her wake, he knew that Party had been telling the truth.

She was a being made of shadows, of whisky darkness that created the illusion of crow feathers. She wore a mask, concealing Her true face, and yet he felt as if he could read Her expression. She watched him with crow like curiosity, Her head tilted like She was trying to jut out Her beak.

Legend says that She had been a crow before gaining divinity, and he could already see within Her mannerisms how they may have gotten that idea.

“I-yeah,” he finally stutters. “It does.”

Although he could only feel it, he knew She was grinning at him rather impishly. “Of course. You and Party Poison have been rather devout believers. But that doesn’t matter.”

The name sombered him. “Yes.”

“You’ve lived quite the life out there, in the desert. Surviving this long is rather the accomplishment. Quite frankly, I’m surprised I hadn’t met you or your gang sooner.” She paused, and he could see Her vibrate in what was probably laughter. “Excluding your leader, of course.”

So they had met Her before. They really hadn’t been lying.

“But still, I suppose it’s your time, isn’t it?”

“Yes...”

“You sound almost disappointed. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He’s wanted to die ever since he woke up from the rubble, ever since he abandoned his friends. This is what he wanted. He can finally give in.

“Don’t you want to see your family?”

He snapped to attention. “W-What?”

“Your family. Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid, and Party Poison? All this time, all you’ve ever wanted was to see them, right?”

“Hell yes.” Hesitation no longer laced his actions or words, except he had one doubt. “Would you even let me see them?”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucked up. I was a coward, I ran away when the raid happened, and I didn’t come back for them. Families don’t do that. They don’t abandon each other in a time of need. They don’t go all every man for themself! But I did! I left them! I ran, and I didn’t go back! I didn’t check on any of them! If I had, I could have stopped all this shit! I could have stopped Ghoul from being a Drac, from the Girl getting kidnapped, from Party being brainwashed! But I was so fucking selfish! I just left them all to die! And now I fucking killed Party!”

He was sobbing now, his last sentence filled with wet chokes and sniffles. Tears spilled down his face, cool in the strange void of temperature he was in. He was shaking, and crying, and he couldn’t help it. He fucked up. Why would She taunt him like this when She knew how terrible of a person he was?

“Oh Jet Star,” She cooed. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he shuddered at her icy touch. She was Death, a Reaper, of course Her hands would be cold. “You’re heart truly is too big for your body.”

He didn’t acknowledge Her words. He rubbed his eyes, trying to collect himself, trying to not make himself out to be pitied. He didn’t want pity or sympathy or forgiveness.

“Darling,” She began. “Listen well. You are not at fault for anything that occurred. The only beings to blame are the men who caused it. Korse launched the attack. He killed Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid. He turned Ghoul into a Drac. He bleached Party. No one could have seen that coming, and most certainly, no one could have stopped it. BLi is to blame.”

“But- But- The Girl- fuck- Party- I-“

She put a finger to Her lips, silencing his stuttering. “You ran away before you could help them, yes. At that point, you didn’t even know they were alive. Your home was destroyed, you had seen Kobra’s corpse. It’s not hard to draw conclusions that no one survived. Your instinct took hold, and you’re lucky it did.”

“Lucky?”

“Yes. Had you stayed around, you would have been captured just like the Girl and Party. You never could have launched the escape plan, you never could have saved The Girl, and you never would have freed Party from BLi’s clutches. You saved their souls, you gave me the chance to finally deliver them into the afterlife. Likely, you would have been tortured and then killed, or turned into a Scarecrow just as Party had.”

“I could have stopped-“

“No.” Her words were final, iced. “No, you couldn’t have. You had a broken arm, you couldn’t have even shot. Party’s legs were broken, the Girl had a concussion, and it would have been an impossible fight even with your help. Jet Star, it might not look like it, but you must understand. You saved them. And you did so because you ran.”

She was right. Of course She was. She was a being akin to God in this universe, there was no point in his arguing.

“I know you still feel like shit. You still feel responsible, but none of this was your fault. Your instinct lead you to survival. It saved you, and it did save your friends.” She paused. “You’ve heard this all before, I’m certain. However, I’m sure your friends would be willing to give you the same lecture, and I think you’d be more inclined to listen to them.”

“You’ll really let me see them?”

“Trust me, they are dying to see you too.” She gave him a small smile. “They’re waiting for you.”

He rang his hands. “What if I don’t want to die? Can I bargain with you like Party?”

That seemed to catch Her off guard. She leaned forward, analysing him, looking rather surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know Party’s told you the stories of my meeting them, likely thousands of times. They’ve always been chatty.”

“Yeah...”

“Then do you remember what they bargained away?”

“Their boots, their belt, their bracelets, their butterfly clips-“

“Material items.” She lifted Her sleeve, and Jet Star’s eyes wandered over Her arm. Jewelry lined every inch, and at Her wrist sat Party’s old bangles. They looked to be in much newer condition than they had been under Party’s care. 

“Of course, you’re welcome to do the same. I always offer the ability to bargain with those recently deceased. Most don't actually take it; those who die are usually content with their end. But some people need second chances. I don't mind. But they must be worth equal to your soul.”

That’s when Jet remembered where Party got those bangles. Kobra had given it to them after the Route Guano disaster. It was to remind them that Kobra would always be with them, no matter what. It had been quite the scare.

Those bangles had meant so much to them that they became worth equal to his soul.

Their boots had been the only thing they had when they first arrived at the desert. Their belt had been a peace gift from Fun Ghoul after he tried to mug them the first time they met. The butterfly clips had been from the Girl, when Party taught her how to shoot for the first time. The list went on.

Jet had always assumed that ‘bartering it to the Witch’ had been their excuse for losing them. In reality, these gifts had meant so much to them that they became equal in worth to their soul.

His heart ached at the thought. “I don’t have anything to offer.” He did. But the thought of his friend truly brought him back to the matter at hand. He missed all of them so much.

She grinned. “Are you ready, Jet Star?”

She held out Her hand, and slowly, Jet Star took it. It no longer felt as cold as it had, and in fact was rather pleasant. 

“Yes.”

She began to walk, and Jet Star followed, hand in hand with Her. 

“You’ve survived seventeen years in the desert. It is time for you to come home.”  
In the distance, he could see specks of colour. Bleach blond hair, red jacket. Jet black, greasy hair and a hideous vest. Flaming red hair, like a beacon, guiding him.

“It is time for you to rest.”

So he did.

**Author's Note:**

> ugh. idk why this specific plot spoke to me, but damn do I love Jet Star. 
> 
> anyway. here’s like 10,000 words of me fucking up canon ;)


End file.
